A few weeks ago I hosted an art camp for five to eight-year-olds in my backyard. Over the course of two weeks over a dozen kids came through our front door. On any given day there were about eight of them, including my two kids. Each covering our backyard and themselves with paint, asking a bazillion questions, building sculptures from cardboard scraps, leaving all the markers un-capped and reminding me every few minutes that children, especially the little ones, have no concept of “tidy.”

Intense is probably the most honest word to describe it these two weeks.

It was also rewarding, vibrant, hilariously messy, and absolutely worth the effort.

At the beginning of June my work at both the co-op preschool and the grade school ended for the school year. To make up for the time I was not making art, I decided to push all my chips into creativity this summer. And with the way I am making art right now, with and in flow with motherhood, right in the messiness of our life - it made sense to blend it all together. Practically speaking, I didn’t want to spend a fortune on summer camps for my son. Many of my friends were in the same boat and I had art supplies and project ideas from camps I’d taught before. It felt like something I could genuinely offer.

But there’s another, more complex reason.

Maybe it’s the constant push and pull of motherhood. Maybe it’s the broader uncertainty that seems to hum quietly in the background. Maybe it’s the rage I feel when I get notified that ICE is in our neighborhood or the unease I feel when reading the news. Maybe it’s perimenopause. Whatever the reason, I feel like it’s near impossible to inhabit the present moment these days, there is always something pulling my attention elsewhere.

Working with children and making art is one of the few places where that disappears. As cliché as it sounds, it doesn’t feel like work.

Children possess an almost reckless confidence in their own ideas. They’re uninhibited, wildly imaginative, and remarkably unconcerned with whether they’re doing it right.

The more time I spend around kids—which, by any measure, is a lot of goddamn time—the more convinced I am that creativity isn’t taught.

Colorwheel Art Camp wasn’t my first art camp, but it was my first here in our new home of Carpinteria. It also felt like a small step toward the future I’m trying to build: working with kids and art. Which is more like exposing them to creative materials and seeing where their ideas take them. Play over product.

It was also... exhausting.

Running a backyard art camp out of my own home while my husband traveled in and out for work, with my own two children participating, meant there were moments when the preparation and cleanup was overwhelming. I leaned on a few neighborhood high school students who dropped in when they could, and I learned a lot.

Here are a few things I’m taking with me.

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It’s summer, and we on the Central Coast of California are experiencing a bout of June gloom. It’s not the kind of weather that stokes my creative inspiration or makes me want to frolic outside. I’m overwhelmed, and our house is trashed. But because we’ve been running so hot with travel and kid sports and work, I’m trying to see these foggy days as an invitation to mellow out a bit.

Over the three months since I last wrote, I started a new job and began to lay the groundwork for my own small business. I’ve been creating on so many different levels—a memory book for my graduating preschooler, creative lunches for my son’s days at summer camp, games to distract my medically challenged daughter while she gets her blood drawn, art for clients, art for fundraisers, art for local exhibitions—that there just isn’t enough energy to fill every single bucket. I’m still making and selling art, but I’ve had to let go of creating and painting regularly. The 100 Day Project proved impossible after a few weeks, and I had to drop it.

We’re about halfway through the year, and I’m rearranging my expectations. The perpetual roller coaster of motherhood hasn’t changed, so I wonder if I was delusional to think I could be making art every day, self-promote (something I suck at and loathe), start an art camp for kids, collaborate with other artists, AND make some money. Yes, delusional. Making art and mothering have been constants for six years now, so it’s natural that they bleed into each other. So much of what I make or think about is about mothering—the challenges and the beauty of it. I’m endlessly honored that other moms and parents connect with some of the artwork I make, and I want to continue creating things that are honest. So I think this is a great time to do a little midyear refresh.

The truth is, trying to orchestrate the right headspace or an uninterrupted window to make art is hard to come by right now. Thank god my creativity is a lovely and stubborn weed. Time, convenience, and profitability have nothing to do with its will to grow. So, rather than trying to swim upstream to make daily art without my kids around, I’m pivoting to embrace the most obvious and frequent invitation: to play. And the next two weeks will be full of play (and a hell of a lot of work) as I host an art camp in my backyard for five to seven year olds.

I saw this quote recently, and it’s stuck with me: “Play is the opposite of survival mode.” My well is not dry. It’s just that there feels like there is a constriction in the way I’m able to show up as an artist right now. Probably because most of the things I’m doing are for other people’s eyeballs.

My stepfather sent me a copy of The New Yorker a few months back. It included a profile of cartoonists talking about their favorite cartoonists. Liana Finck (my personal fave) wrote about William Steig, and she said this:

“Steig’s art is the art of someone unafraid of falling. This fearlessness is not a quality that comes from within, although Steig’s brilliance certainly does. He did not fall prey to the demons that get 99% of compulsive drawers. The result: he kept being his irrepressible self—for decades. He was able to take his time, figuring things out in his own way.”

And yes, Steig was a white man living decades ago, so the canyons between what he could accomplish artistically and what almost any woman or artist of color could accomplish are wide. The freedom to simply make the work without interruption or apology has never been equally available to everyone.

But that’s not the lesson I’m taking from him. The lesson is to resist the urge to overthink, wait for the right conditions or self-edit away all the mess and originality. Stieg’s lesson is to keep playing. Lead with fearlessness. Coincidentally this lesson is also superbly fitting for a woman about to run a two week art camp for 5yr olds in her backyard. 🥴

Here are some things that I’ve worked on these past few months:

A few things I’m enjoying right now

• I just finished Emma Straub’s extremely delightful book American Fantasy. I highly recommend. Better than a beach read but just as fun.

• Hallie Bateman’s take on getting rid Amazon, once and for all. She made this on notebook pages, by hand. Love.

• Ilana Glazer’s podcast - It’s open. God, I wish she and I were friends in real life. We’re definitely buddies in my dreams.

• The new Courtney Barnett record ‘Creature of Habit,'

• Felicita Sala’s children’s book ‘Bored.’ One of those rare children’s books that I buy just for myself. It made me laugh out loud. It is exquisitely illustrated and brilliantly written

Lastly, here’s some photos of the progress I’ve made on my backyard art studio. Colorwheel Art Camp begins on Monday. Wish me luck!!

If you are joining Amateur’s Alphabet to follow along as I attempt another 100 day project, thank you! This practice of writing about my creative process is peppered with parenting ups and downs, my slow growth as an artist and lackluster surfer, reflections on being a mother in the U.S. at this very turbulent time, and finding true hope through community engagement - because collectivism > individualism!

I hope to keep things interesting, especially if you’re keen on hearing about what’s working for me at the moment as an artist. I can’t promise anything flashy but always honesty and humor. All that I create, art and words, come straight from my heart and brain. So I thank you in advance for your grace with the misspellings and typos.

I’m doing the 100 Day Project again. This is my seventh year attempting all 100 days. Since the project kicked off on Feb 22 I’ve already missed a bunch. This year, I’m finding it harder to access creative clarity, a clean surface to work on and 10 minutes without interruption. Maybe it’s because my daughter is older and walking, and vocally expressing her needs (or displeasure) every 30 seconds. Maybe it’s because I’m drinking too much coffee, or not sleeping enough, or consuming too much online. Maybe I’m just tired of being a woman and a parent in a system that doesn’t care about women and children. Maybe it’s trying to comprehend all the horrific things that seem to come at us with each news cycle — it’s an information overload every day. Not to mention the infinite amount of meaninglessness to distract us; AI slop, the endless scroll, and take your pick of reality TV. I feel like a lot is working against us. At the very least it can make creating feel self-indulgent, at the most it makes me feel hopeless.

Luckily, I know this to be true - each of us have something to bring to the table - we all have a fresh perspective to share. What we create is up to us, but it makes us part of the bigger fabric of humanity. And as a creative I feel that it is my duty to keep planting the seeds. Whether that’s painting my day to day with my kids, or voicing my solidarity with my community as we stand against ICE, or illustrating something personal, like my battle against my chin hairs. 🙃

I don’t know what these seeds will be when they pop up (a flower? An eggplant?), who will benefit from them, or if I will be around to see them break through the ground. But, pressing on through the uncertainty and discomfort, being scared but going anyway, planting the seeds without knowing the outcome - is medicine that we need at this time. I keep coming back to this Austin Channing Brown quote “now is always the moment for resistance, for creative disobedience. Don’t lose hope. Hope is a duty - a duty to work toward the freedom of all humanity - no matter what.”

Hope does not demand perfection. It just asks for engagement. And this is what I’ve found to be the true gift of being a parent and an artist - the ability to exist in a limbo of uncertainty and remain present at the same time. In fact, being a working artist and mother, my relationship with uncertainty continues to be one of the most important tools I have to maneuver in this increasingly chaotic life. Uncertainty asks us to trust in the unknown. Life has no guarantee and at times the rawness of it can often make us want to check out. But the mess, the feeling around in the darkness - the uncertainty, is the whole experience. Both art and parenting would cease to exist without it. Imagine going into a family home and their house is spotless. No toys, no marker stains on the walls, no signs of children other than their presences. Wouldn’t that make you deeply suspicious? The mess makes it alive!

When I’m on a walk with my daughter, we go SLOW. Despite her short legs, she can be quick and nimble when she wants, like when she’s running out the front door and onto the street. 😵‍💫 But when we’re walking, she takes her time. Worms, berries, blades of grass and rocks call to her. She literally leaves no stone unturned. To her, there is no destination, the process of going for the walk is the whole thing. There is no optimizing walking with a 2 year old, there is no perfecting the experience. It simply is. It takes as long as it takes. And when everything right now seems to demand a quick fix, being with my kids or wrapped up in the creative process reminds me that things of quality will take the time it needs to become fully formed. So, I will continue to hit pause in my daily circus, even just for 5 minutes, to digest life a little. I’ll continue to push off all the peanut butter covered toys on the table to make a clean surface, and make some messy art.

Speaking of messy art - here’s some sketchbook spreads from the past month

And here’s some things that are bringing me moments of joy right now

Music -

Kokoroko - this album came out last year but I put it on repeat when I’m need of a pick me up.

KEXP - My forever favorite radio station.

Watching -

All Creatures Great and Small - I know this is geared toward the 60+ crowd but I do not care. I can watch it with both my kids and it doesn’t give me nightmares.

Reading -

I got a subscription to Slow Factory’s Everything is Political magazine. The printed piece is beautiful - it’s mailed as a 11 x 14 but the online subscription is great too

Something in print I haven’t gotten my hands on yet but can’t wait to is Christine Tyler Hill’s Cloud Report. She creates a monthly zine and mails it to subscribers, contents are mostly about what happens on the one particular street corner in Burlington VT where she spends time as a crossing guard.

Until next time, your pal, Jackie :)

Hi! How are things—are you hanging in? Last time I wrote was late November, which feels like years ago. I’ve been solo parenting a lot this past month. Our house is torn up. There are fresh chocolate stains (I’m hoping it’s chocolate) on the couch, piles of laundry everywhere. The last load went in with a black crayon, and now my whites are waxed. My mind is pudding.

Yesterday I didn’t brush my teeth until 4pm—and I only did so because I had a piece of popcorn stuck in them. 🙈

Some of this I bring on myself. I’ve been glued to the news, reading nonstop about what’s happening in our country, to our democracy, and in the world, in a way that makes it hard to concentrate or think about anything else. Painting and working with my hands—even if it’s just a small illustration in my sketchbook—has been a soothing kind of mental palate cleanser. It brings me back into myself, even if only briefly.

Over the past two months I’ve begun working on larger pieces, which are great for rage painting with my hands. But no amount of finger painting on canvas—or books and news—will help me understand why weak, horrible men in power are never held accountable. There have been days when creative work feels impossible, and days when things just click. It’s hard to be present and creative on demand with this pit in my stomach. While I absolutely believe art is resistance, it often feels like it’s nowhere near enough. And yes, maybe small actions add up to bigger movements—but making art and looking out for my neighbors feels like the absolute minimum coming from someone like me, who is comparatively very cocooned in privilege.

But in the same breath, I’ll say this: choosing to take up space with creativity fills a void that fascists would prefer to stuff with obedience. And maybe it can become the social proof (a term I borrowed and love from the wonderful Jess Craven—her Substack here) and permission for others to take up their pens, cameras, or whatever tools they choose, and do the same.

Among the many thoughtful voices that reinforce why we should be making art, I often return to the words of Wendy MacNaughton (her Substack here) and Sister Corita Kent as my lighthouses.

Wendy MacNaughton — why people need to draw:

Drawing teaches us to look so we can truly see each other, ourselves, and the world around us.
So we can choose curiosity over fear, and care over harm.
We all want to be seen.
We all want to connect.
That only happens when we slow down, pay attention, and look at what—and who—is actually in front of us, not what we’ve been taught to see, fear, or ignore.

And from Sister Corita:

“And we carry out that pledge by belonging to the whole world as responsible, participating adults—committing ourselves to the making of this community, to the making of this new peace, using all our energy, time, money, and creativity.

Peace will not be made for us by others—it will not be given to us by others.
We must make it ourselves, and it is very hard work and very dirty work.

If we make it well, we are artists.
If we don’t, it means the end.
What else matters then—except to be artists?”
— Speakout Against Nuclear War, 1982

I think the majority of us—whoever we are: artists, parents, people who put our pants on one leg at a time—want to care for our neighbors in MN, our neighbors locally, for our families, and for our democracy. And we’re showing up imperfectly, but the point is that we’re showing up.

Since these are “unprecedented times,” I think we need to not only show up, but start doing things that make us uncomfortable or feel like a reach. For me, I’ve noticed I’ve become much more comfortable engaging with (making and seeking out) art that advocates and confronts social and political issues. Artists I admire who are top of mind: Olli Costello, Ben Wildflower, Windsor Kincade, and Narcisso Martinez—please seek them out! I recently submitted a piece to Just Seeds (it’s the 5th one in on the top 🙃), an artist collective I admire.

Beyond that, I’m trying to keep in mind that as dire as things can feel, there are communities that have been living in what we’re seeing as “unprecedented” times since before the inception of this country. Our country may be predicated on the ideals of justice and equality, but in truth it has been built on the backs of immigrant and enslaved labor. I dearly hope we can begin to understand that in a world where wealth is distributed so unevenly, and in a country where entire groups of people can be stripped of dignity—if it was ever truly given— including children and the most vulnerable, it seems like fascism was always coming for us. With this truth, I deeply hope I can walk a little more boldly into my role in this mess—as someone who has the capacity to protect my neighbors, and someday be able to have honest conversations with my kids about how, at this time in history, we did not accept selective justice, but began to work toward safety and resources for all of us.

With that, I’ll descend my soap box! :)

In other news—

The 100 Day Project starts at the end of the month, and I’m eyeing the date 2/22 with both excitement and dread. I know jumping on this creative grenade may not be the smartest move for me right now, but I feel compelled to do it—it can be really freeing for my creative practice, and fruitful.

I’ve been doing many art markets this past season. It’s been a great way to meet other artists and connect with people. I’ve started selling (and making) bigger pieces, framed, in addition to the prints I’ve always sold. Although it’s more effort, I think I’ll continue.

Speaking of bigger pieces, this is one I did two weeks ago. It’s one of the biggest I’ve ever done, and I’m sure I wasted way too much paint trying to get the layout right. I took a great abstract acrylic landscape class a few years ago and revisited it as I began to work—but I ended up painting over things about eight times anyway. Video proof below.

Personally, we’ve had a win with my 2-year-old. Last week she had a doctor’s appointment where I anticipated she would begin a round of new medication. Both the process and the medication itself are pretty brutal, and with what she has already dealt with in her two short years, I dread it. But her endocrinologist looked at her labs and we’re going to postpone—hopefully for six months to a year! Win.

Thanks for reading. I truly appreciate your engagement—without you, I’d just be typing into the wind.

Until next time,
Jackie :)

Hello! Hi. Welcome. It’s been a while. Thanks for showing up to this word salad. This letter came together early in the morning or in quick bursts in between doing dishes, making endless amounts of pb + jellies and folding laundry. So, go luck with the semantic errors my peanut butter fingers typed out in a hurry.

Our life continues to be loud—fast, busy, and filled with all the things that come with parenting two small children. My constant companions are the spills, sand in the bed, mud on the carpet, and the emotional peaks and valleys of a 2 and 5-year-old. I’ve been creating art here and there, but nothing quite like the surge I felt during that 100-day creative marathon this past spring. I’ve said this before, but it often feels like being an attentive mom is in direct competition with my creativity and, in truth, there’s no real competition because my kids will always win. I’m sure I’ve also shared this before but my most wonderful 2-year-old has a health condition that requires daily, lifelong medication and frequent visits to specialists. I’m not just her mom, but also her caregiver. Her needs require us to consider and honor her unique situation every day. For now, we’ve chosen to keep her at home until the time is right for her to join other kids in a school setting. So, until both kids are in school or in full-time childcare, I’ll continue to have urgent creative ideas that I have to save for later or let go, because I don’t have the time to act on them. And, while this is frustrating, it’s okay. In fact, it’s wonderful because it means my priority is my kids and all the other stuff will be there for me when the time is right. As many many mothers, from strangers on the street, to friends, and even my own mom remind me, I am in a tough but beautiful, and incredibly short, window of time.

One thing that has allowed me to get time for my creative practice and balance parenting is working slowly on larger pieces. Unlike this spring, when I was pushing out a piece a day (how did I do that?) I’ve been working on commissions, which I chip away at over a few weeks. Here are two from the past two months that I’ve since passed off to their owners.

This piece is fun because it is based on the Mother’s Day collage that I made this spring, pictured in the blue frame below with the two other small framed pieces. The collage is only 5in x 7in, not large enough to fill a large empty wall space, so I recreated the piece on wood. This now hangs at my friend’s new business in the heart of Santa Barbara. The frame was done by a dear friend of mine (who was our witness when eloped in 2016!) who, out of his generous heart, did this gorgeous cedar frame in less than a month and tried to charge me less than what we pay for a week’s worth of groceries. I would always choose him as my framer but he has two full time jobs.

I also created a piece for my son’s school auction. The framing, which I did myself, from a frame that I picked up at a resale shop, turned out to be more than I bargained for, mostly because my daughter crawled on the frame and cracked the glass.

These three beauties were just framed this week. I drove up to SummerCamp in Ojai on the recommendation of an artist I recently met.

I’ve been selling at artisan markets more often this year, a big change from last year when I did none. They’re a fun way to meet other makers but they’re a lot of effort. I often feel unprepared because I don’t have a consistent set up and little things like a gust of wind make half my stuff fly away. But, it’s worth it to keep participating because it’s much more interesting to meet the people who will hang my art on their walls. It’s such an honor to have something I made bring someone joy, and it’s impossible to know if something purchased on my Etsy site has “landed” with the receiver since it’s all done over the anonymity of the internet.

On that note, I’ve been thinking A LOT about my role as someone who creates and gets paid to make art. Which in itself is a loaded thing. I am an artist not necessarily because I have more talent than someone who, let say, cleans hotel rooms for a living and dreams of being an artist, but because we live in a society that values some over others and I’ve had the privilege to be in relationships where creativity has been encouraged and at times financially supported. So, on top of just being a human with eyes and a heart, and a mother, and a person who lives in community and doesn’t want her neighbors disappeared by masked men, do I have an obligation as a creative to speak up about the injustices and cruelty happening locally, nationally, and well, everywhere. And, if so, will it matter? Over the past few years and especially over the past few months I’ve come to the resounding conclusion that YES, it does. It does matter and I do have an obligation. But, I’m still working on the how. How can I show up right now as a person and an artist who cares? Things are bad and I won’t pretend they’re not. People are going bankrupt because of rising income inequality and crippling medical debt. ICE is using indiscriminate violence to intimidate and spread fear all over the country. The list goes on. But, back to my question. How do I show up?

Despite the urgency of what we are seeing and facing, I’m coming to find that I can genuinely show up to this moment by going slow, building community and being inconvenienced. Most of us want to live in a community and a country where everyone has dignity and gets to experience joy. But that starts with how we treat each other in our neighborhoods and communities. So, if I want to have local radio stations that play a variety of music from lesser known musicians, coffee shops that are owned by community members, people who look up and say hi rather than move about with their head stuck in their phones, and kids to be valued in public places than I need to donate to radio public stations and patronize locally owned coffee shops and put my phone away and get involved in places (or start one!) that value children. In addition, I need to really start addressing where I spend my money and question my need for immediacy. This means putting in an effort to find things locally and a willingness to break with services like Amazon or Spotify, which may make life “simpler” but at the cost of fair wages, environmental health, connection, and human dignity.

Now that I’m on my soapbox, I want to declare my love for most modern conveniences. Having groceries or dinner delivered to my door can be an absolute godsend, especially when I’m solo parenting. However, the things that truly make my soul sing like friendships, my family, art, music, are inherently inconvenient. Take my creative practice, for example. It’s a slow burn, a lifelong endeavor. Yes, I may eventually see financial rewards for my work (and thank you for your support!), but it requires time, space (shout out to my used and abused dining room table), mental capital (of which I have little these days), and most importantly, soul. Only now, after years of dedication, do I feel as though I could make this my “job.” This is only possible because I am finally putting down roots here in Carpinteria, declaring myself a working artist, showing up to makers markets and sharing my vulnerabilities with friends and other makers, and asking for help when I need it. This is community building and community takes effort. It’s often inconvenient and often awkward. Inconvenience doesn’t “optimize time” (whatever that means), but it does ask me to build the world I want. Makers markets, showing up for community meetings at inconvenient times, and searching locally for alternatives to the stuff I used to get online, inconvenience encourages us to put effort into things and people that take patience and attention when our brains are being trained to value the immediate. Yet, inconvenience, slowness and patience is where hope, connection, and, dare I say, love reside.

As always, thanks for reading these. I hope you have a lovely holiday.

With love,

Jackie :)

I’ve reached the end, friend!

Finally free of paper scraps, paint, and art supplies, my kitchen counters and dining room table are seeing the light of day again. I too am reclaiming some space and time. While I will miss the creative momentum that I have felt throughout this project, I’m ready for a break.

The biggest win to come out of doing this project is being in the “flow” of creative practice. This has been hard to attain since having kids, but this project’s near daily creative repetition got me back into the groove. Also, creating with my hands and leaving technology out of the process helped me cut ties with chasing perfection. No computer and no iPad meant no undo/ctrl Z button. To finish a piece each day, especially in the narrow naptime window, I had to focus on the process and stick with what I created, whether I thought it was good or not.

Because I did the 100 day project in 2020, I’ve been reflecting on how I’ve grown over these past five years. Between then and now my personal life feels like it has gone from zero to sixty, from no kids to two kids, from a mountain town to a beach town, to a digital creative background to now predominantly creating by hand. Reflecting on these past few years has also helped me become more aware of what have been creative barriers. Certainly lack of time has been the biggest barrier over the past five years. Having little children often means the days and the hours that fill them are not my own. However, by deliberately prioritizing what I want - time to create - and letting go of some things (like laundry and paying bills 😬) I’ve been rewarded by a renewed connection with myself and my creativity. I’ve also been surprised by how painting and working completely by hand has snowballed my creativity. Rather than getting sucked into a narrow, imposed syndrome mindset, which can happen to me when I work digitally, being offline and working by hand has been tremendously generative. The more I create the more ideas emerge.

Inspiration came easier during this 100 day project compared to when I did it in 2020. From motherhood, to relocating, being employed to staying at home, and rediscovering surfing, I have gained many sources over these past five years. Moving back to a coastal area has helped me get in touch with an expansiveness that I did not feel tucked into a tiny town surrounded by mountains. Surfing (or the thrashing around that I do that sometimes passes as surfing) and being in the ocean has helped me get in touch with new sources of inspiration. Even just being on the beach near the ocean connects me with the vulnerability and sweetness of seeing all different kinds of bodies in their bathing suits. Out of all the themes that emerged in my collages over these past few months, motherhood to me is the most compelling. Creatively, it provides endless material. But, I struggle to translate being a mom, with all its complexities and contradictions, to paint and paper. Hopefully this is something I can explore more as my kids grow and I grow as an artist right along with them.

I must express my immense gratitude to you all for being here. I am truly filled with gratitude for all the encouragement and notes you’ve shared throughout these past few months. I will continue to share my artwork, creative journey and updates on when prints and originals are up in my Etsy shop!

Thank you, thank you, thank you. - Jackie

There’s a tea brand I buy that includes philosophical quotes on the bag tags, and lately, I’ve been getting the same quote: "Nature does not rush, yet everything is accomplished”—Lao Tzu. Is the universe trying to tell me something?

My journey of creation over these past months hasn’t been linear. I’ve felt inspired and consistent at times, been busy, and taken breaks. Compared to the 100-day project I completed five years ago, I have way more on my plate. In 2020 I didn’t miss a day, which was a feat for sure. But I didn’t have children and it was during lockdown pandemic times, so I needed something to pour myself into. It would be impossible to have that level of consistency/productivity in this current flow of life which is full of interruption and joyful pandemonium. This time around, I’m more focused on how weaving in creating everyday (or almost every day) affects other parts of my life. Can I be more present because I am making time for myself and the thing I am passionate about, or am I putting unnecessary pressure on myself? Because, I sometimes lose sight of the fact that the 100 day project is completely voluntary. And the closer I get to completing these 100 days the more pressure I feel to keep going and not miss a day. I have to make an effort to not let pressure creep into the creative practice, making it just another thing on the to do list.

I’ve become familiar with author and illustrator Austin Kleon’s work by proxy. His writing, especially in the creative/art genre, seems to be everywhere. One of his most known books, Steal Like an Artist, centers around a ten item manifesto. The last item, number 10, “creativity is subtraction” has been on my mind lately. Creativity is subtraction, which in these terms means removing the unnecessary to get to the essence at the core, can apply to both creative work and life. Cutting the clutter and complexity in an art piece is not always obvious, but always yields the best results. In life, subtraction is not about doing less, but about removing the non-essential stuff to focus on what matters. For me, there is not much I can cut in a day but the pressure I put on myself to accomplish it all. If what I want from these 100 days is to set the kind of pace in my creative work that I can sustain long after this project is finished, then what kind of pressure can I let go of?

Lately I’ve found joy in being “nap trapped,” something I usually outsource to the stroller or crib for the sake of getting things done. Nap time is usually when I can pay bills, make art, brush my teeth, drink some water, you know, the essentials. Don’t get me wrong, I love holding my babies while they snooze. But when you don’t get much (any) time during their waking hours, nap time becomes a precious thing. When babies are little, the​y are in a constant cycle of ​eating and sleeping, often​ nursing and napping right on mom. But for Frankie, my second baby, things didn’t quite go this way. Some of her early months were spent in an ICU crib. Holding her, and all the wires and tubes that attached to her, was a gift. And so now, on occasion, she naps on top of me. And I want to hold her, whenever I can, whenever she's not busy crawling or climbing or generally giving me a run for my money. These naps, which happen a couple of times a week, could be an occasion where I let the pressure creep seep in, but I don’t. From my spot on the couch, I take in the chaos around me: Hot Wheels cars, Transformers, and Paw Patrol figurines scattered on the floor, puzzle pieces, apple cores, and Goldfish crackers wedged into the couch. But I sit. I don’t grab my phone, I don’t move her, and I don’t clean, send emails, create art, organize, pay bills, work, shower, exercise, or do all the other things I feel I “should” be doing. I simply sit. I’m not sure if sitting still benefits my 100-day project, but it certainly helps my mind and soul. More importantly, I refuse to measure the worth of my efforts by what I can show for them. If I did, I would miss the bigger picture. If I want to lead a creative life, one that ebbs and flows and is sustained through all of these stages, then subtracting the pressure around creating, and sitting despite all the to-dos and messes, may be my answer.

​In other news -

The Friends of Fieldworkers' virtual boot drive is ongoing, if you're interested in sponsoring a fieldworker by providing them with a spiffy new pair of Red Wing work boots, check out the link here. Donations begin at $75 for a pair.

Two weeks ago I did my first maker's market of the year at the Carpinteria Art Center. It took me days to prepare, I ordered extra prints and made t-shirts (I will be selling these on my site once I get another size run). It went so-so, the weather was pretty crummy and it seemed like those who came to the market to buy knew what they were there for. If I want to be known locally, I need to share my work locally, so I've signed up to do this market again​ next month even though this first go wasn't very successful.

​Just 20 days until I reach the 100 day mark! I will be selling some of the pieces and prints on my etsy shop. I'll put a link into the next newsletter. Thanks to all of you who have expressed interest :)

I set out last week to write a quick note about reaching the fifty day mark of the hundred day project. Things quickly veered off topic when I began to write about turning forty. This unexpected excursion helped me reflect on how I’ve landed here, a mom of two and creating art on the side, and unpack my hopes for the future as I crest this midlife mountain.

If you’d asked 30yr old me, toiling away at a non-profit and hoping to find my true calling, where I would be at forty, at home caring for my kids and making art during naptime was not on the top of the list. Luckily, my ambition and hopes have evolved over the years. At some point I stopped fixating on becoming one thing or looking to something like a job or graduate school to pave my path. I’ve realized the only true thing about a creative career is that there is no right way to do it. Being an artist or creator includes many iterations (and income streams).

I have two children, one 4.5yrs and the other 18 months. The second, my daughter, has a complex health condition that requires daily care and monitoring. In the months after she was born, while we were in and out of hospitals and doctors appointments, I made the decision to leave my job to be home and care for her. And I am lucky that I can. I wouldn’t trade these days with her for anything. But, this has required a recalibration of what success means to me.

For as sweet as they are, my children gobble up most of my time and energy. When I have a rare window to myself I’m either making art or surfing. Both allow me to reclaim play and joy and mentally check out. On a good day, when I can approach one or both with a beginner's mind, I feel like I’m connected to something much bigger than me, which is both comforting and regenerative. On an off day, which is often, (especially with my art practice), I get frustrated, wishing I were further along. It can seem like everything, from my creative process to composing a commission proposal and even just painting, takes me longer than my peers (whether that's actually true, who can say?). There’s still so much I want to learn and accomplish, but juggling my artistic ambitions with my 18-month-old, who has a knack for finding the dirty and dangerous when my back is turned, is difficult.

With surfing, my biggest hurdle is finding the determination to go when I am still such a beginner and probably always will be. When I am able to find a chunk of time for myself, it takes a lot of effort to use that precious time to do something that requires me to be cold, uncomfortable, and often, bullied by the ocean. But, like most things, the reward is in the doing. Once I overcome the reluctance to go, I usually come back beaming.

Looking forward, I want to start working on bigger pieces, on big canvases. I want to surf three times a week and invest in a better board. I’d like to get my name out in my community and show everything I’ve done during this 100 day project at one of the local shops. For my fortieth year I want to continue to chase joy and play, especially in creating and surfing.

Having little kids makes it challenging to be spontaneous about creating. Creative epiphanies are no match for the needs of little children. During these 100 days, I’m really leaning into consistency over creative bursts.

In addition to baby puree, cheerios, and hot wheels coating my floors, now there are also rogue paper scraps and dots of gouache. My mess + my kid’s mess = big big mess. My brain, a rolodex of both useless and critical information, is nearly at capacity, making me feel like at any moment I could overlook something major. The anxiety that comes with (what was) a relatively simple act, like listening to the news, is so derailing I get twitchy eyelids just thinking about it. In not so subtle ways my brain is telling me that it’s about to run out of storage. I am compelled to continue these remaining (70ish) days of the 100 day project, grow my creativity and watch the work I’ve created build upon itself, but I’ve already got the volume on life turned up to eleven and it’s intense.

Without being hyperbolic, I declare that these past few weeks have been nuts. March’s yo-yo of ups and downs included time at the hospital when my 1.5yr old was in the ICU. Then, a week later, I left my kids and husband for the first time and went to Costa Rica for a surf trip with a group of women I had yet to meet. This trip completely exceeded my expectations, I returned feeling nourished and inspired, but (surprise surprise) still tired

In both of these experiences I found myself leaning on this growing creative routine as a way to distract and process the uncertainty and excitement. If I was not doing the 100 day project I am certain I wouldn’t have grabbed my paints and collage pieces as the paramedics shuffled around my living room trying to help us get to the hospital. Who needs a toothbrush and clean underwear when you’ve got paintbrushes and paper scraps instead? Priorities, I guess.

I keep coming back to this Octavia Butler quote, “first forget inspiration. Habit is more dependable. Habit will sustain you whether you're inspired or not." Part of why I am doing this 100 day project is to flex the repetition, and get into the habit of building my creative habit. As much as I’d love to create on a larger scale, and chase depth and slowness in my work, this is not the chapter in my life for that. So, we do what we can, when we can.

I’d love to hear if you are also in a period of creating, how things are going for you? What helps you stay consistent? And even if you are not making art in a direct sense, remember this, “We are all artists, we are all working out of our creativity on a daily basis, whether in raising our children, balancing our checkbooks, cooking our meals, carrying out our work, making love, praying, talking, or standing up to wannabe dictators….Our lives are daily acts and choices calling for creativity." Quote by one of my favorites, Matthew Fox.

Thanks for reading, see you here again soon!

Jackie :)

The 100 day project has begun and for the sixth year, I’m attempting to create for as many days in a row as I can. I am using collage as my medium because I have tons of unused paintings and paper scraps. So, no need to waste paint or paper, I’ve prepped pages ready for deconstructing. Plus, because I’m short on time, I won’t be starting from scratch each day. Since lack of time is my greatest concern, I wanted something that I could easily compose, and collage provides me with the ability to spontaneously create something, rather than plotting it out.

The only year I completed the 100 day project was in 2020. Through a labor intensive process of painting, digital collage and instagraming, I made art consistently for 100 days. By the end, I had learned a tremendous amount, made 100 illustrations/paintings/mixed media pieces, and connected with other artists. The 100 days of effort expanded my capabilities as an artist and helped me build up enough pieces to sell online. To date, it was one of the best things I’ve done for my creative career. All that said, there is no way I could come close to the level of time and attention I put into the 100 day project five years ago.

These are the three factors I took into consideration when I decided to try for a 100 day creative streak this year:

• I have kids and about 3.5 mins a day to myself (this doesn’t include bathroom time since both of my children have no sense of privacy and the door doesn’t lock)

• I’m not using Instagram. Unfortunately it seems to still be the preferred way that the 100 day project community shares their projects and connects, but I’m boycotting Meta. While I’m still hoping to make connections and share my art through this platform, deleting Insta has helped me cut out the time I spent on SM. I hope to put more time into producing my art and maybe even sharing what I create locally rather than putting more time into growing something on instagram. I wonder if moving away from insta will encourage me to take more risks? Will Substack be a decent alternative and a place I can make connections with other artists? We shall see.

• I’ve long used photoshop and procreate to make or finish my illustrations. This time around, I am planning on going cold turkey and solely work in paint and paper.

I’ll be writing every two weeks or so with an update on how things are going, wish me luck!

​H​i, it's Jackie​!

What a doozy of a January. I know I'm not the only one who is delighted it's over. Anyone else feeling like they are getting water​-boarded with overwhelm? The chaos spewing out D.C. seems relentless. It's impossible to tap into my creative flow with so many fears swirling around my brain. I keep wondering what I can do, and I guess this email is one of my first steps in taking action.

​M​any of you are getting this email as a forward. I usually send this newsletter about once a month​. It usually touches on creating art with a beginner's mind, hence "Amateurs Alphabet." In addition to a focus on art and illustration, I usually focus on parenthood, compassion, and usually share current projects or sketchbook spreads. Moving forward, I will be peppering these letters with tangible ways in which we can move toward a more generous and an equitable future​. ​W​e can't do everything​,​ but we must do something. What we can do is get hyper local and get involved​ in our communities, our city councils, and volunteer organizations. In that spirit, here's a list to get us started.

1. Protect the vulnerable.

​Get involved in organizations that work to protect the undocumented. These two organizations work with the migrant population in Santa Barbara and Ventura county. The​y both have opportunities to volunteer. I​t's a plus if you can spanis​h plus but not a requirement. ​I will be volunteering with FoF this month.

​- 805undocufund

​- Friendsoffieldworkers

This information is Santa Barbara county specific but for my friends in the 206 and beyond, I encourage you to look for similar organizations that are working with the undocumented.

​ - Protect LGBTQ+ friends community. ​D​rumpf's executive orders​/alterations in civil rights laws​, along with his rhetoric ​e​ncourage bigoted ​a​ctions. Just yesterday hospitals in NY, D.C., VA and CO​ cancelled continuing care for trans youth after an executive order. ​If there are organizations or efforts in your/our area that are working to keep our LGBTQ+ community safe please consider donating.

​2. ​I​nvest in solutions based journalism.

​My favorites at the moment are:

Yes! Magazine

What if we get it right?

Get news through reliable sources, and spread it.​ Aside from the usual sources, I find Heather Cox Richardson​ dailies to be succinct and thoughtful.

​3. Participate ​in boycotts of companies that are enabling D​rumpf and Muck.​

​I've cancelled my prime account and stopped using Meta. There are probably thousands of other companies and orgs that I should stop patronizing, but one thing at a time. In the long run, I want to reframe how I consume - ideally, getting most of the things I need from people I know, rather than from big box stores. But, as a start, I will be paying much closer attention to where my dollars go.

​T​his is a messed up time, to be sure. ​But, as I was reminded by Sophia Fifner aka The Advocate Next Door, “the panic you feel isn’t just fear—it’s fuel. So use it. One step, one circle, one act of courage at a time.”

Until next time,

Jackie :)

I’m hostile towards the new year’s hustle. I’m not talking about NYE parties, black eye peas, or polar plunges, but the “New year, new you” bullshit. Most resolutions, especially those that offer something to consume as a solution are the opposite of genuine growth. I’m sure there are many resolutions that bring positive long term change, but it seems that most just echo the worst of a punitive patriarchal society.

This is the time of year the dark gives us an opportunity to slow down. Winter brings a sacred quietness that be challenging to connect with during the scramble of the holiday season. If you were to take a pause, what parts or things from this year would you like to bring forward into 2025?

In the spirit of bringing more goodness into our lives rather than forcing ourselves do something restrictive, I’d like to share my more/less wishes in hopes that you too might think up some things you’d like more of. One of my favorite illustrators, Julia Rothman began this tradition several years ago. I think it’s such a lovely and playful tool to reflect on the year.

feel free to share yours!

It's been a bumpy few weeks (months? Year?!). Like many parents, caregivers, and sensitive folks, I feel exhausted from being the softness that our children, friends, and family need at a time when the world feels so harsh.

The results of the election at the beginning of this month were devastating. I am deeply concerned about how the policies and tone of the next few years will continue to normalize a culture of hatred, bigotry, and greed. But, the more I pay attention to what is happening globally, or even in communities within the U.S., I can let go of the myth that something (like the U.S. government) will save us from ourselves. I mean, policies that quicken the destruction of our planet and the violence towards civilians, especially children, in the name of war and greed certainly don’t help, but in the words of one of my favorite writers, Jonathan Safran Foer, “no none who isn’t us is going to destroy the earth, and no one who isn’t us is going to save it. We are the flood, and we are the ark.”

So, how the hell do we claw our way forward? We start with what’s right in front of us, caring for our families, friends, and communities. Right in front of me (or on me since I’ve got one attached to my hip) are my kids. Being the mom to a baby with a rare condition has an odd silver lining that I have to be present or I might miss something crucial, so things that used to seem like a big deal pale in comparison. Keeping a perspective of gratitude that she’s here and healthy is reaffirming. Also, oddly, I’ve found comfort in cold ocean water. Something about being in the cold water is humbling beyond words. I am not interested in chasing the good waves and I am uneasy when the surf gets too crowded. I should clarify, I am a terrible surfer. There have been chapters in my life when I’ve surfed often but this chapter, for many reasons, has not been one of them. My alternative to surfing, bringing my bathing suit down to the beach and jumping in, works just as well. The water is in the mid-fifties so a swim is more like a dunk and then a quick retreat. But, it is the one place I am solely focused on what’s around me.

In other news, I am going to the tattoo shop next week. I’m getting inked in two places, my wrist and my forearm. Is this the kick-off of a mid-life crisis? Or is this a pathetic attempt to control life when life feels out of control? Probably. Maybe. Who knows. Who cares! I will get a wink on my wrist and six words on my forearm. A wink because I think winks are a fabulous form of non-verbal communication and because my overly expressive face struggles with the subtly of winking. The other piece is words on my forearm. They are my take on the A.A. Milne quote, “Promise me you'll always remember: you're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think." This was painted over the Neonatal Intensive Care wing at the hospital we’ve spent so much time in. I read it every day when I did my laps when Frankie was in the PICU. I am not a Winnie the Pooh fan but these words got me through some very lonely stretches.

I don’t know about you but this time of year my inbox becomes bombarded with black Friday sales and ads for more crap to buy. To reduce the chatter, I do have some “gift” recommendations for you, but most are free and are simply delightful art for your eyes or ears.

• Critical Connections, a 2025 calendar that asks us to deepen our relationships and commitments to shift our world. Olly Costello makes beautiful art, but they also make the world a better place. Read more about them here

• A subscription to High Country News or Yes! Magazine

• Thank god for the writers, arts, creators, and thoughtful humans who can make the most of the worst. Maurice Harris of Blooms and plumes. His motto is CAPITIALISM doesn't care about your creativity.

• Quinta Bronson. Okay, yes, I know that Abbott Elementary has been around for a few years but I’ve just started watching and ADORE it. So, in the very unlikely case you haven’t seen it, start watching!

• Remi Wolf – I saw her live at the SB bowl and she is fabulous. Her latest album is easy, fun, and what I like to put on while I’m cleaning the house.

• And, because I deeply appreciate you and your support of my art and this missive (and yes, because you kept reading!) this code: CYBER2024 goes to 25% off all prints in my shop. My only ask is that all orders be placed before Thursday, December 3rd, so that they can be shipped in time for the holidays.

Lastly, it’s helpful for me to remember that the arc of history is long. I deeply believe we are alive now for a reason. There is too much magic in the universe and our beings for life to simply be circumstance. So, until the aliens gobble us up or bring us all the answers, I will continue to paint in my sketchbook and care for my kids, donate to progressive causes, try to limit my news consumption, and jump into the ocean when I can. I hope you too, do the things you need to do to care for yourself and

others. And time and life will keep moving forward, hopefully pushing us towards each other and a more compassionate future.

Sending you love.   

I just wanted to drop a quick note to say thank you for your support this year and offer you a free print from my Etsy shop. Here’s the link to my shop. Just text me or shoot me an email and let me know which print you’d like and I’ll get it in the mail (unless I’m seeing you soon).

Love you all

!

Read more

On this election eve, I am feeling tense. I suspect you may feel the same so I’m sharing this mash of illustrations, article links (I promise these won’t spike your cortisol levels) and two of my favorite movies to take your mind off things. The more the merrier, add yours in the comments!

Illos -

Going to the beach is fun. It's less fun with a baby who eats sand, but we still go. We use the beach like it's our backyard, I have sand all over our floors and pages upon pages of beach scenes in my sketchbook to prove it.

Sketchbook illos of Rincon, Jalama and Jellybowl beaches last month

I don't care if it's fiction, Martin Sheen as Bartlett will always be my president. Forget the present and live in Aaron Sorkin's America for a couple of hours... I found this list of West Wing episodes, ranked

I find most news depressing regardless of how it's delivered. This is true for most cases except when I'm reading it from Heather Cox Richardson. Each evening Richardson (a history professor at Boston College) writes her take on the day's news, and yesterday's letter about our democracy brought me to tears. In a good way

​I voted by mail two weeks ago so tomorrow on voting day I've tasked myself with staying away from social media and the news for as long as possible. If I can peal my four-year-old away from Bluey I will watch either The Birdcage (Robin Williams and Nathan Lane are a dream team)​ or Momma Mia (who doesn’t love watching Pierce Brosnan try to hit those high notes?!) to keep my mind off things. What about you?

Welcome, Fall!

I'm sitting on the living room floor surrounded by baby toys. There's something yellow and sticky mashed into the carpet. Davey is eating dinner out of a bowl in his lap while watching TV, Frankie is taking her first proper nap of the day even though it's nearly time to put her to bed. So in other words, a scene of parenting at its finest. Kitt is in NYC this week. I vacillate between being completely capable and a complete meltdown. 

Frankie has pink eye and because of it I've increased her meds, now she's WIDE AWAKE nearly all the time. As some of you know, Frankie has a serious adrenal condition and she takes medications to manage her condition and prevent crashes. When she gets sick, even with something minor, I usually increase her daily steroid, which makes her like a WWE wrestler, combative and angsty. Luckily she's so damn cute. Much of this week has been a write-off creatively. Monday we were out of the house at 7am to make it to the pediatrician. It was a full day of doctor's appointments for Frankie, which happens a few times a month. Since naptimes have been mostly nonexistent this week, I owe anything I've been able to accomplish to caffeine and sheer willpower. 

I've finally phased out the "HeyJack" name. It's been 7 years since design school when I established a presence online. HeyJack has been good to me (except when people would search for my website and google gave them heyjackass instead). With more confidence and a clearer direction in my abilities and creativity, showing up as myself, Jackie Doucette, seems more authentic. In addition to a name change, my website has had a small refresh. I'm also preparing to overhaul the prints I sell in my Etsy shop. Here's a sneak peek of a few I'll be adding. 

I may have mentioned in my last letter that one of my pieces is showing at the Sun Valley Museum of Art as part of its Idaho Rivers exhibition. This piece, "Clearwater," is part of a series that I am slooowwwly working on titled, Year Round In a Ski Town.

Getting "Clearwater" accepted to the Idaho Rivers exhibition was the vote of confidence I needed to get back to work on this series, but I have a lot of work to do. I intend to do 26, each letter of the alphabet representing something related to living in a ski town (aka Ketchum). If you can think of anything that works for the letter Z, let me know!

xo

This summer, time was not marked by hours and days but by loads of laundry, lunches made, diapers changed, medicines administered, tears wiped, hours logged in the pool, and messes cleaned up. Over and over and over again.

Summertime can feel aimless and chaotic but this summer I embraced the chaos. After Davey's school ended in June and we got through Frankie's MRI in LA, we traveled, staycationed, and tracked sand and pool water all around the house every day. I embraced an attitude of “who cares!” Who cares if the dishes are spilling out of the sink or the laundry is molding in the wash?

Certainly leading up to these past few months, before creating I needed a home environment that was clean or clean-ish so I could mentally make room for creativity without being caught up with the smear of peanut butter on the table or a week-old pile of unopened mail. Not to say that I now embrace being an all-out slob (well, occasionally) but I'm less precious about the state of our space and more concerned with how quickly I can translate what's percolating in my mind into my sketchbook. 

To add to my creative quiver this summer, I joined a clay class at the recommendation of an enthusiastic friend. Although I didn't make much more than a few lopsided jars for the bathroom counter, it was a good opportunity to flex my creative muscles in a new way. 

Currently, I am taking a color theory class by one of my favorite artists/illustrators, Lindsay Stripling. It's been an excellent way to break out of my tendency to grab the same paint tubes and consciously observe how I relate to color and where it shows up in life. For example, orange. I associate orange with the lower light in fall, pumpkins, the glow of candles. But orange is also of artificial cheese (barf), traffic cones/barriers (traffic jams!), and of course, the belligerent walking Cheeto who is running for president again.

A few months ago when my daughter was in the hospital we had a stream of family and friends visit. One morning, during my dad’s turn to shuttle me to the hospital in his cherry red rental Mustang (the antithesis of his personality in vehicle form) he casually dropped a Mary Oliver quote that I love so much I may get it tattooed across my chin. 

“To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.”

Right now it feels like everything is inflamed. There is so much suffering in the world, especially in Gaza. It’s infuriating and horrific to see families broken and babies killed by war with some of our institutions, leaders, and media’s consent. What gives me hope is that there continue to be aid workers, artists, protesters, doctors/nurses, teachers, and students who act against the injustice and cold-heartedness of the war in Gaza. 

There's a beautiful Toni Morrison quote that’s been popping up a lot since October. 

“This is precisely the time when artists go to work. There is no time for despair, no place for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear. We speak, we write, we do language. That is how civilizations heal.” 

While I lack the time and the artistic capability to be the kind of artist who creates something even a smidgen as brilliant as Mrs. Morrison’s work, I take hope in blueprints from visionaries like her who were undeterred by the unjust systems we live within because they knew real, enduring, positive change takes time. 

To get to the place I hope humanity is heading, where we can offer each other much more softness, acceptance, art, and of course, love, we will face discomfort and grief. But I hope our discomfort will not stop us from acting in service of what is humane, loving, and just. 

Daily, I hope for an immediate and permanent ceasefire. Until then, I will continue to pay attention, act in ways that I hope will bring liberation, and make soft, silly art when I find the time.

Hello from my kitchen countertop, sorry for the ten months of silence. We had an unexpected plot twist a few months ago that put a spin on my postpartum plans. We found out our little girl, born late last year, has a serious congenital condition that needs constant management. In addition to becoming a mom of two, I became a regular at our local hospital (especially in the cafeteria and pediatric ICU). My appreciation for hardworking healthcare professionals has grown tenfold, while my disappointment (disgust?) in our healthcare system remains unchanged. I'm shocked by the cost of it all. Like, the insurance estimate for our daughter's stay in the hospital? Let’s say it was more than the cost of our first home.

A lot has shifted for me in these past six months. I’ve decided to step away from work at the Museum to focus on caring for our daughter full-time. At home my work has doubled with two kids (one with a round-the-clock med schedule) so it’s important to be intentional about how I use my time. I’ve cut down on some things to make way for more regenerative activities. I’ve put a 5-minute limit on my social media apps so that they time out if I reach my limit for the day. This is a great way to stop from falling into a scroll hole and wasting time. I’ve cut out drinking, except in certain social situations, and my sleep, energy, and mental clarity have tremendously benefited. And, for no other reason than that my toddler usually gets to watch some shows in the evening, I’ve also cut out most of my Netflix time. The time I would have spent watching I try to fill with reading or getting back to my creative practice if the babies are occupied and the house isn’t a mess.

Creatively, I’m slowly finding moments to begin again. I took an abstract landscape course before the holidays taught by Amanda Hawkins, which I highly recommend. I discovered Amanda scrolling Pinterest, her paintings caught my eye and I went to her website to learn more about her. Lo and behold, she offers digital courses which is perfect because, at the moment, abstract landscapes are all I want to do. Here are a few examples of what I’ve been working on.

I hope to begin writing and sharing more again, but I’ve learned my lesson not to make promises. Hopefully it won’t be months until the next time you hear from me!

My last newsletter was in March when I was probably just dipping my toe into first-trimester morning sickness. I am pregnant with my second and heading into the home stretch of the final trimester now. 

This pregnancy has been more challenging than my first for many reasons. Lack of time and feeling sick tie for first place as the worst parts. Luckily, I feel much better than I did. Those first few months I have no idea how I managed to make it to work and through meetings without throwing up. 

Unlike my first pregnancy where I expanded creatively in tandem with my belly, this time around I feel dried out. I am not sure if it is the lack of time or a true loss of will to create but right now, my creative growth is on pause. I don’t get time like I did with baby no 1 to sit down for two hours a day to paint and draw. Now, I barely get time alone to sit down on the toilet for two minutes. And although I am against our cultural preoccupation with being productive and busy, I find myself often lamenting that “I have no time!” Consumed by work, my toddler, making life choices big and small - “angel hair or fettuccini for dinner? Should we keep renting or look to buy?  Should I get off at this exit or sit through this gridlock traffic…”, and other general life chaos, time in the day to sit quietly and create has, unfortunately, become a luxury. 

If I were to look on the bright side (and you know I will), pressing pause on creating has allowed me to feel less tied to the constant “I should be making art” when I had any free time or, “I should be planning on what to post on Instagram,” or seeking inspiration, or taking an online art class or doing a 100 day art challenge. Stopping has been necessary but it’s also been instinctual. Creativity for me has been both self-care and in some way, an obligation. 

While I’m certain that things will get more hectic when baby number two arrives in October, I am grateful for this time when I’ve been so fully swept up during my pregnancy and LIFE that any urgency of pressure I was carrying surrounding my own creativity has been killed off. By taking away any sort of goal or parameters around how much I “should be” doing, there is absolutely no pressure. And when I do decide to return to making, painting, drawing, etc. I know it’ll be there for me.